


cheaters hands never take care

by tocourtdisaster



Series: 15 Pairings [1]
Category: Bones
Genre: Adultery, Community: 15pairings, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-04 08:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocourtdisaster/pseuds/tocourtdisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>They're sprawled out on top of the drop cloth in her studio, just barely touching. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	cheaters hands never take care

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Gauze" by Red Red Meat.
> 
> For the prompt: it's not real

"I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

They're sprawled out on top of the drop cloth in her studio, just barely touching. When she turns her head to look at him, she notices that he's got a smudge of ochre on his nose.

"It's refreshing," she says, pushing her hair out of her face with one hand, the other lazily stroking his side. "Fumbling a little because I'm not with someone who knows my body almost better than I do. It's refreshing."

He squirms a little when her fingers ghost over his bare hip, the only ticklish spot on his body. "It is nice," he says.

She nods, closing her eyes, imagining they're different people. Maybe strangers engaging in a whirlwind fling while on vacation before returning to their mundane lives and jobs. If she tries hard enough, she can almost believe that's what they're doing.

He sighs and, her fantasy broken, she opens her eyes. He's looking at the clock on the wall above the canvas that she was working on when he got there. There's an out-of-place swath of ochre, made when she fumbled with her brush when his lips caressed the back of her neck.

"I told Daisy that I had a meeting," he says, not meeting her eyes. He never does when he talks about his girlfriend. "If I'm not home soon, she'll worry and call the Hoover."

Angela wants to be angry that he's leaving her alone in her too-quiet apartment to go home to Daisy, but she knows she doesn't have that right. She's the other woman; the only right she has is to a stellar fuck and a remorseful excuse from him before he leaves.

She watches him collect his clothing for a moment before pushing to her feet. She leaves her clothes where they are; she has the sudden urge to be as far away from Lance and the evidence of their indiscretion as soon as she possibly can.

She pauses at the door, her hand gripping the frame hard enough to turn her knuckles white. "You should wash your face before you go," she tells him, but it doesn't come out as malicious as she wants.

She doesn't look at him before she leaves him standing in the middle of her studio, naked, and clutching his clothes to his chest.

She can't.

**

**end**


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